


Scars

by valathe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Tom Clancy's The Division
Genre: (very) subtle hints of pharmercy, F/F, Psychological Trauma, it's right at the beginning though, like ripping off a band-aid, rated M for someone burning alive, some fluff in here now too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valathe/pseuds/valathe
Summary: Angela is a medic with the JTF, being escorted by Fareeha around Manhattan to help whomever she can. She's quick to dismiss her guardian as yet another unthinking, order-following thug, but there's more to her dark-skinned companion than immediately meets the eye.No prior knowledge of The Division required, but it helps to set the mood.





	1. Ghosts

Angela looked in horror at the man writhing on the ground, yelling in unimaginable pain as flames engulfed his body. She startled as a shot rang out right next to her and the man stilled, still burning but obviously dead. She turned her head to look at Fareeha, who was inspecting the magazine of her pistol. Her shock quickly turned into rage.

 “Why would you do that?!” she snarled, absolutely livid.

 “I did him a favor.” Fareeha replied, dispassionately securing and holstering her sidearm.

 “A fa...a favor? Are you _out of your mind?!_ We could have helped him. _Saved him_! Who are you to decide who lives and dies?!”

 Fareeha barked out a short, cynical laugh.

 “ _Saved him_?” she asked, incredulously. “That's second- and third-degree burns on at least 40 per cent of his body. If you had, _somehow_ , managed to keep him alive, it wouldn't have been pretty. Trust me, I _did_ do him a favor.”

The blonde couldn't believe her ears. How she ever could have thought that Fareeha would be different, not your typical bone-headed soldier, was beyond her. She was just a mindless killing machine, like all the other ones.

 “I have to get away from this.” she muttered harshly before pushing herself up, stalking away from the jersey barrier they'd used as cover during the brief, but intense, firefight. “You're just like all the others.” she called back, “Murderers, each and every one of you!”

 

 She heard rapid footsteps approaching behind her, and before she had even realized what was happening Fareeha had her roughly, almost violently turned around and shoved against the brick wall of the alley she had wandered into.

 “Murderer? _That's_ what I am to you?” she growled.

 Angela was getting defensive. The case was clear to her: “You shot this man when he was absolutely no threat to you, me, or anyone! What else would you call it but murder? And don't you even _think_ about saying how you did him a favor when you have no idea what you're talking about!”

 Fareeha abruptly let go of her coat and straightened, seemingly debating something internally for a split-second. Then, she pulled off her backpack and threw it into the muddy snow, before roughly taking off her jacket and shoving it into Angela's hands, quickly followed by her Kevlar vest. Angela was so confused be the sudden turn of events that she didn't even manage to protest when Fareeha pulled her long-sleeved shirt over her head, leaving her in nothing but a sports bra from the waist up. She immediately regretted every one of her words.

“No idea what I'm talking about, yeah?” Fareeha snapped. Her right shoulder, chest, and upper arm were covered in a single, huge scar, and Angela instantly realized it must have been at least four or five years old.

“How about a dull throb every time the weather changes, sometimes so severe that even the slightest chafing against your clothes feels like torture? How about waking up in a cold sweat every other night, feeling the pain so acutely as if your skin was still on fire, even though you _know_ it's all just in your head? How about not being able to look into a mirror without clothes because you can't stand your own reflection? How about that?! I didn't force him to run around with a tank of napalm on his back, I didn't force him to start shooting at us!”

 

She pulled her shirt back on and was in the process of covering it with her Kevlar when she stilled, and her tall, aggressive posture all but disappeared.

“I know what I've done, doctor, believe me.” she said in a much quieter tone. “Every time I close my eyes at night I live through another squeeze of the trigger.

“Remember when I killed that feral dog a few days ago? You were just as livid, calling me a...'knuckle-head' I think it was...and do you know what scares me about that dead dog?”

 Fareeha looked her straight in the eyes then, and Angela couldn't bear to hold her gaze for more than a few moments.

 “I hesitated longer before killing that dog than when I killed my first person. Or my second. Or third. Have you ever wondered why so many soldiers return with PTSD from their tours? Killing...isn't in our nature. It goes against every one of our instincts. When two animals fight, over territory, over a mate, rarely anyone ever dies. And if so, it's by accident. It's all posturing, roaring, hissing, puffing up...it's all meant to intimidate the opponent, make them back off. Because killing, unless it's for food, is _not natural_.

 “If someone menacing approached you and you had a gun, what would your first instinct be? Point it at him, maybe even shoot in the air. Puffing up, displaying your claws, showing that you are capable of defending yourself. Actually shooting _at them_ would be your absolute last resort.

 “But you can train people to shoot to kill. Send them through enough shooting ranges, telling them every second counts, making them fail if they hesitate even a moment...it becomes second nature to shoot as soon as you perceive a threat. It becomes muscle memory. You do it before you even have a chance to process what's happening.

 “My first kill...I was on a recon mission, scouting a neighborhood that had been overrun by looters. The sun was about to set, and I heard a noise, turned around...there was a person with a gun, not wearing a uniform...a single bullet was enough. He fell over and didn't move, and when I went to check him out it was a boy. A scrawny kid, with fuzz on his cheeks, no older than fifteen. I had probably startled him and he had wanted to scare me away. Puff up, show me his claws. But I had been trained. And before he could even utter a single word, I had killed him. _Muscle memory_ had pulled the trigger.

 “And his lifeless face will stay with me. Even if I forget my own goddamn name, I don't think I can ever forget his face, with that fucking hole in his forehead.”

 

She had finished putting her equipment back on, and with it, she had put her façade back in place. The maelstrom of emotion was gone from her face, and she was looking at Angela evenly.

 “I know what I've done, doctor, and what I'll continue to do. I'll carry it around with me for the rest of my life. But I don't need you lecturing me about how I'm a cold-blooded killer.”

 Angela leaned against the brick wall, hugging her stomach while tears ran down her face. She didn't dare look Fareeha in the eyes.

 “We should head out.” the soldier said, “The sun begins to set, and I'd like to reach the safe house before it gets dark.”

 As she turned to walk out of the alley, Angela suddenly grabbed her by the arm, keeping her in place.

 “Fareeha...” she started, with a quiver in her voice, before faltering. “I...I'm sorry.”

 Their eyes met, and for the briefest of moments, Angela thought she could see something there. Understanding, gratefulness perhaps, or something deeper? Whatever it was, it was gone as quick as it had come, and Fareeha cleared her throat before nodding once in acknowledgment.

 “We should head out.” she said again, and walked into the deserted snowy street.

 “Yes,” Angela whispered before following her, “we should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so this idea came to me and i just hacked away, and since i've been playing the division a lot lately i thought 'hell, it's a good backdrop, why not.' also, what fareeha says about people not automatically killing anyone that's a potential threat is actually true. in world war II, only 25 % of frontline troops in the US army fired their weapon even once in the direction of the enemy, and only 2 % actually shot to kill. as mentioned, there are ways to train people to do so, but it's not good on the psyche. hence the apparent rise of PTSD and similar conditions in returning soldiers since vietnam (it's not apparent, it's actually a thing).  
>  **UPDATE:** it has been brought to my attention that the actual numbers cited here are based on a study that has been thoroughly discredited. i apologize for any misinformation and confusion this might have caused. i do think, however, that the basic message (killing isn't something that comes naturally to us) still holds true. that's all :)
> 
> anyway. tell me what you think about it! i may turn this into a multi-chaptered thing or a series, so stay tuned i guess^^
> 
> also, this is my first time posting anything on this website, so please excuse any errors i've made while uploading. or even better, point them out to me if you spot them :)
> 
> song of the day is [Cygnus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVdHw4fskj4) by Cult of Luna and Julie Christmas, a collaboration between two of the most influential bands/artists in post metal :)


	2. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of peace and quiet after last chapter's roller coaster

Angela was on her way to the staff dormitories after a long and hard shift in the clinic, eagerly looking forward to just lie down and pass out. The rooms and corridors of the base's ground floor were, as ever, bustling with activity, but she knew that she would have her peace and quiet once she got upstairs. It was nearing seven p.m., and most of the civilians would be heading to their dorms soon. She passed the 'play room' on her way to the stairs, and chanced a glance inside to see most of the children sitting in a large semicircle around a woman who was reading them a story. The voice that caught her ear made her do a double take, though. It was unmistakable.

  
  


“ _...the crow seemed greatly disturbed when it heard of the Queen’s illness. “You must go,” it said, “and go at once. There is indeed a drug in the Queen’s palace that will save her life if you can but fetch it in time. You will suffer no harm from the people in the palace. They will, indeed, give you the drug at once when they learn that the Queen is in need of it. But at the gateway of the palace there are two fierce lions. These would certainly tear you to pieces before ever you could enter, unless you had my help to depend on.”_

_The crow then bade the youth look carefully at its right wing. “You will find there a single silver feather,” it said. “Pluck it out and carry it with you. When the lions spring at you, you must at once touch them with that feather, and then they will become gentle, and you can pass them by unharmed.”_

_The crow stooped before Hassan and spread wide its wings, and Hassan saw that the third feather from the tip of the right wing was of pure silver. He plucked it out, and having hidden it in a safe place in his clothing, he started out on his journey. For seven days and seven nights he sailed across the seas in the same direction as he had gone before, and on the morning of the eighth day he came within sight of the island. He landed and made his way toward the palace, and he saw no one on his way. No sooner did he approach the gateway than two fierce lions sprang out and rushed at him as though to tear him to pieces._

_Hassan was terrified at their appearance. It seemed as though he must surely lose his life, but he stood firm until they were almost upon him, and then he touched them with the feather. At once they became perfectly gentle, and even fawned at his feet as though he were their master. So Hassan passed by them unharmed and entered the palace...“_

  
  


She hadn't recognized her at first, but there sat Fareeha, reading a story she didn't know to a gaggle of kids who were listening with rapt attention. If it weren't for the handgun strapped to her thigh, the scene wouldn't have looked out of place in a kindergarten or a sunday school.

 _'Well, not a sunday school.'_ Angela thought with a small smile, eyeing the hijab the soldier was wearing. _'I never would have thought...'_

There were a great many things she never would have thought about Fareeha. She still felt guilty for how mindlessly she had berated her a few days earlier, without thought or regard to what the soldier might have been through. She should have known better, given her own history. But it was no use dwelling on past mistakes, and so she leaned in the doorway and continued watching, just as entranced as Fareehas target audience.

  
  


„ _...At once, instead of the crow, a tall and graceful maiden stood there before the Queen, a maiden of such great beauty that she was even the equal of the Queen herself._

_The King and Hassan were filled with wonder at this sight._

_The Queen then turned to the King with a gentle smile._

“ _This maiden,” said she, “was my favourite of all the Peris that once attended me. But she grew proud and haughty because of my favour, and at last presumed to disobey even me. To punish her, I changed her into a crow and sent her to fly about the world, despised by all. But I will now forgive her because she brought me to you, and will take her back into favour if she can assure me of her repentance.”_

_The Peri sank on her knees before the Queen and kissed her hand, weeping. She assured her mistress that her pride was indeed broken, and that from now on she would be her faithful and obedient servant._

_The Queen then raised her from her knees and made her sit beside her, and all was joy and happiness._

_As for Hassan, he found the maiden so beautiful that he could not keep his eyes from her. Already he loved her with his whole heart, and longed for nothing so much as to have her for a wife. The Peri returned his love, and with the consent of the King and Queen they were married, and from that time on they lived in the greatest joy and contentment._

_As for the former favourite, he was so miserable over the sight of Hassan’s happiness that at length he could bear it no longer. He sold his house and goods and sailed away, no one knew whither, and if anyone regretted him, it was not Hassan.“_

  
  


Fareeha closed the book, and smiled gently into the group. „Alright, children, it's bedtime now.“

The dismayed faces and pleas of 'just one more, pwetty pwease' would have melted Angela's resolve in a heartbeat, but Fareeha remained resolute.

„You know the rules, little ones. If you behave you'll get another story tomorrow, alright?“

Slowly the children started to get up and leave the room, until only Fareeha remained, still sitting on her chair, running her fingers over the cover of the book. It looked well-used but not worn, and it was obviously handled with great care.

„That was a sweet story.“ Angela said, still leaning against the doorframe.

Fareeha startled and whipped around, her expression turning sheepish when she saw the doctor.

„You think so?“

„Sure do,“ the blonde replied, „and the kids definitely agree.“

Fareeha got up and walked a few hesitant steps towards the blonde before stopping, still a good distance away. She nervously tugged at her headscarf and held the book close to her chest, a far cry from her confident and secure body language when they were out in the field.

So there they stood, briefly glancing at each other before averting their gaze. Two grown women, one a doctor and one a soldier, and neither could think of anything to say.

“So, uh...” Angela started, desperately grasping at anything, “I, uh, I didn't know you were Muslim.”

The moment the words left her mouth she wanted to slap herself. Such an insensitive thing to say! To her relief, Fareeha only chuckled briefly.

“Not really, to be honest. I mean, I know a few prayers and all that, but my mother was never big about going to the mosque back home. It's more of a...cultural thing for me.” - that awkward tug at the hijab again - “You know, still being connected to my home, to what's left of my family...”

And there the blonde wanted to sink into the floor again.

“I'm sorry Fareeha, I didn't want to bring up unpleasant memories.”

“It's quite alright, really. You didn't know.” came the reply, accompanied by a dismissive gesture. Angela wasn't sure if the sentiment was true or not, but her curiosity had been roused.

“If, erm, if you don't mind me asking, where do you originally come from?”

Fareeha looked up, surprise evident in her eyes. “Oh, uh, Egypt. I thought that would've given it away by now.” she said, pointing towards the tattoo below her right eye.

“I didn't want to presume.” Angela replied.

“It's fine, really. I'd like to say I'm proud of my country, but...well, let's not go there.”

The self-deprecating laugh following that statement tugged painfully at Angela's heartstrings, and she didn't dare venture another question. That left them in an awkward silence yet again.

Fareeha broke it, eventually. “So I was going to get a quick bite to eat, would you like to join me?”

Angela hesitated a bit before allowing herself a shy smile.

“I'd like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, not much going on here. I just have this headcanon of fareeha being a 'cultural muslim' (is that actually a thing? I don't mean any disrespect to devout muslims), and I wanted to get a bit of quiet interaction between them. A bit of a reprieve from the first chapter.  
> this is also, yet again, unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are due to my horrible english. mea culpa
> 
> Song of the day is [Quelle Valeur Reste](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqZ6m9LoBfU) by Alpinist. Awesome, unfortunately defunct german hardcore/crustcore band


	3. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha has to venture into the Dark Zone on a dangerous mission...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since it's never come up before: this story takes place shortly after the culmination of what little actual plot there is in the game, so a slight spoiler warning for this chapter. don't lose sleep over it, though: ubisoft apparently used their best writers for world building, and let the interns write the actual story for the campaign.  
> also, i tried something a little different this time. let me know what you think!

_Angela, I need to talk to you. We have a mission coming up. An important one. Into the dark zone*._

“Dr. Ziegler? You've never come to listen in on an OP. Everything alright?”

_We've learned about a terminal set up by the First Wave, one that's still active. One that might lead us to Keener.* It's deep in the DZ, almost on the edge of Central Park._

“Of course Dr. Ziegler, I'm just surprised is all. Usually Dr. Kandel is with us to cover anything medically relevant. I assume she has briefed you?”

_It's...a long shot. We have little intel on what to expect but...well, it's the dark zone. Let's just say we expect the worst, and then some._

“Well, the primary goal is to uncover information on Keener's whereabouts, but anything that can help us with speeding up developing a vaccine for the Green Poison is a very close second. We think this terminal is part of a server cluster that was used as the primary communications hub by the rogue First Wave elements. This could be a gold mine.”

_Stonewall, Washington, and Gauntlet. They're good agents. We'll watch after each other. This is our job, Angela. This is why I, why we all signed up for this. You know we need to stop Keener, and our first step in doing so is getting that intel._ Someone _has to do it._

“Alright people, we're patched into their comms. Tungsten squad, do you read? Copy that, reading you loud and clear. No new intel, unfortunately. Remember, our patch might not work, so it's possible we'll lose comms once you enter the DZ. Use your flares when you need to exfil.”

_I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distress you. I just thought...I just thought you should know what's going on. I promise I'll be careful._

“Tungsten squad, do you read? Can you hear me? I'm still reading you five-by-five, confirm? Tungsten squad? Damn...well, at least we can still hear them. Have the chopper on hot standby.”

_Angela, there's something else. I...I've meant to tell you for a while, but...well, I never really had the guts. But I really want you to know before...what I mean is...bloody hell, this went a lot smoother in my head. I... … ...I like you, Angela. I really, really like you. And if I-_ when _I get back I'd like to...take you out on a date? Or as close to a date as we can manage..._

**P: Watch out, I got two tangos on my 11 o'clock. Looks like cleaners. Gauntlet, Washington, can you take them out quietly?**

**W: Roger that, Pharah.**

**G: Confirmed. On three. One, two, …**

**P: Good job. Let's push on.**

**S: I don't like this, guys. I feel like someone's watching us.**

**W: Did you forget to put on your big boy pants today, Stonewall?**

**G: Yeah, what happened to Mr. 'Dark Zone, Schmark Zone'?**

**P: Comms discipline, guys. We're nearly at the target.**

**G: Subway entry in sight. Looks abandoned.**

**W: Looks can be deceiving. But I haven't picked up any heat signatures on my scanner, so far.**

**P: I'll take point; Washington, bring up the rear. Keep the talking to an absolute minimum as long as we're down there.**

**P: Got something on scan. Two heat signatures, possible Tangos. Make that six. Ten...shit.**

**G: Looks like LMB. Double shit. Should we pull back?**

**P: Negative, we _need_ that data. We proceed as planned.**

**S: Jesus Christ, woman, there's at least two dozen of those guys up ahead. We can't take them all on, we should retreat!**

**P: Keep your fucking voice down, Stonewall! Our objective is to retrieve that intel, and we _will_ complete that mission. We're Division agents, a bunch of rent-a-soldiers won't stop us.**

**W: Movement behind. Looks like more LMB. Orders?**

**P: They know we're here, they're trying to box us in! Open fire, open fire!**

**P: Washington, take out that .50 cal with your 203*!**

**W: Eat this, faggots! [static] ...chine gun down!**

**P: Keep pushing forward, they're breaking!**

**S: Washington's hit, she's down!**

**[static]**

“Dr. Ziegler, are you alright? You look pale.”

**[unintelligible]**

**S: ...negative, no pulse.**

**P: Goddamnit...alright, sweep the area one more time, then get ready to move out.**

**P: On the off chance anyone at HQ is getting this: data is secured, we're about to move to the exfil point. Washington is...we have one casualty. She's KIA. Pharah out.**

“How could they have known we were coming for that data? Shut up, Rhodes, I want explanations not excuses. It _could_ be just bad luck, yes. I could also secretly be Marilyn Monroe, so please shut the fuck up!”

**P: Stonewall take point, Gauntlet take up the rear. Let's move it, people!**

**S: This is so fucked up, Pharah. We shouldn't have left her behind!**

**G: Oh, so you would have carried her, or what? Get your fucking act together.**

**S: Shut up, Gauntlet, no one cares what you think!**

**P: Quiet, both of you! Focus on the task at at hand. We're just half a click from the primary exfil point, you can bitch and moan all you want once we're out of here.**

**S: I don't like it, it's too exposed.**

**G: Of course it is, the chopper has to land _somewhere_.**

**P: Stonewall, set up with your LMG* on that scaffolding over there; Gauntlet, see if you can't get up and behind that billboard. You'll have crossfire on both streets leading into the plaza, I'll try to cover the alleys.**

**G: 10-4**

**S: Roger that.**

“Alright, get the chopper in the air. Tell them to stay on the lookout for a flare from somewhere within DZ-7, and get there ASAP. And make it clear that those agents _must_ get out of there. Unless they have fucking Stingers* the LZ is _not_ too hot!””

**S: I'm in position.**

**P: Copy that. Gauntlet?**

**G: Almost there. This billboard isn't the sturdiest piece of cover, but I'll manage.**

**P: Let's just hope we won't have to wait long until the chopper arrives. I'm firing off the flare now!**

**S: If they didn't know we were here, they do now.**

**P: Watch your sectors, guys. Stay frosty.**

**G: Movement to the east. Counting two runners. Permission to engage?**

**P: Make your shots count, Gauntlet. Weapons free.**

**[static]**

**S: Jesus, how many of them are there?!**

**P: Stay calm, Stonewall, and change positions. I'll keep them occupied.**

**G: I'm running low on .338*, where's that damn chopper?!**

**S: I think I can hear it...yes, I can hear it! It's coming! I'm heading down now!**

**P: Hold your position, Stonewall! Fuck, Gauntlet cover me, he'll never make it across the plaza.**

**G: I have visual on the helicopter, it's almost on top of us.**

**P: Copy that, make your way down-**

**G: Shit, enemy sniper, take cover.**

**P: Where is he?!**

**G: Southeast brownstone, 4** **th** **floor. Saw him in the rightmost window, but he's changing positions.**

**P: Stonewall, can you lay suppressin-ARGH!**

**G: Pharah's hit, can you get to her Stonewall?!**

“Dr. Ziegler sit down again! No buts, you sit your ass back down again _right now_ or you leave!”

**P: He got me in the foot, I can't get up.**

**S: Hold tight, I'm almost there!**

**G: Got the bastard! No tangos in the immediate vicinity, but we've got a whole lot incoming. ETA 90 seconds. Now is our chance to bail!**

**S: Lean on me, cap, come on. We gotta go!**

**P: We'll never make it before they arrive, take the flash drives and go!**

**S: Fuck you, Pharah. It's either both of us on this chopper or none; and since I know how important that data is...**

**G: Come on you shits, the pilot is getting twitchy over here. I'll cover you, but hurry. They're almost here!**

**[static]**

**[static]**

**[unintelligible]**

**[static]**

_**Pegasus-Actual this is Pegasus-3/1, got two agents and the cargo on board and secured. We're en route to the HQ, have a medical team on stand-by for one wounded in non-critical condition. Over.** _

_**Copy Pegasus-3/1, Pegasus-Actual out.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terminology explained for those not familiar with the game (obvious spoiler alert). copy&pasted most of this from wiki:  
> *Dark Zone: Originally this quarantine zone in the middle of Manhattan was heavily patrolled by the Joint Task Force and was created under the Government Order to ensure that those infected with the Green Poison virus could be contained.  
> However, the growing number of riots and supply shortages forced them to pull out, leaving behind much of their valuable gear. Not only this, but it was a total mission failure by the First Wave Division Agents after losing support from the JTF, causing some to feel betrayed by the government and go rogue. The Dark Zone is now mostly empty and lawless and basically an isolated zone; outside communication is limited, and dangerous gangs roam the streets in brutal conflict, fighting over the remainders.  
> *Keener: Aaron Keener is a Strategic Homeland Division agent who has gone rogue and created his own unit with other First Wave agents. At the end of the game he is revealed to have taken equipment and research data required to manufacture other deadly diseases. His current whereabouts are unknown.  
> *203: an underbarrel grenade launcher, mainly in use with american M4 and M16 rifles, but can be used with many others. This is something that actually isn't in the game, but look at me, i'm the captain now.  
> *stinger: a versatile surface-to-air weapon system. Can be mounted on a wide variety of ground vehicles and helicopters, and can also be fired from the shoulder. It is a 'fire-and-forget' weapon system, which means the missile homes in on the target autonomously without any input required (or possible) from the shooter after launch.  
> *LMG: Light Machine Gun, a rifle which usually has a very large magazine (50-200 rounds) and is typically belt-fed. Sustained fire is usually inaccurate, and used mainly to suppress enemies in the target area  
> *.338: the caliber of a powerful rifle cartridge, very popular with military snipers.  
> \----  
> Sooo. I tried something different with this. I'm not sure I really like it, but there's only so much fiddling I can do before I scrap it entirely. It has definitely been a challenge to write, it really is a quite different experience to have to rely on dialogue only to tell a story. I hope it was understandable enough for you guys, and I welcome any and all feedback you guys have for me!  
> cheers


End file.
